


Exchange

by Dazzledfirestar



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Banter, First Dates, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: Sam needs to stop making jokes at the very handsome king of Wakanda.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cathybites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/gifts).



> Written for the 2016 Marvel POC Fanworks Exchange.

It didn’t start out this way. Honestly, Sam had never really been the pulling pigtails type but he just couldn’t seem to keep the smart ass comments and small grins to himself around His Royal Highness. Maybe if he got a response now and then that amounted to more than a raised eyebrow, he’d feel a little better about the situation. Or maybe that’d just make things worse. He couldn’t really say because he wasn’t getting a reaction and it was starting to bug him more than it probably should have.

Even Steve seemed to notice, which was a whole other level of how far gone Sam was and he knew it.

And yet…

“Got any new balls of yarn lately?” 

And the thing was, he really did like the guy. They owed him, sure. And the small glimpse of Wakanda he got was amazing. Sam had always wanted to see Africa. Anywhere really, just places where he wasn’t the one standing out. And Wakanda… even the little outpost the king let them settle in after everything went to shit, damn near brought tears to his eyes. He wasn’t the outsider. He wasn’t the one that stood out and while he figured getting further into the country wasn’t going to happen because closed borders and all that, that much was a gift.

T’Challa’s patience with his shit seemed to be the cherry on top of his crush, if he was honest about it. No reaction, no twitch. No sign he was doing more than scratching the surface and yet… he kept scratching.

Pecking, Steve had called it but Sam wasn’t entertaining that particular cat vs bird nonsense.

At least not with anyone other than the king.

The man was an enigma. And that more than anything got under Sam’s skin. He wanted to know more. He wanted to learn not just about Wakanda but about T’Challa. But he kept acting like a kid with a crush and it was clear that wasn’t going anywhere.

Not that he expected it to go anywhere, of course. Royalty, after all. 

“Is there a reason you don’t seem to like me, Mr. Wilson?”

Sam snapped to attention as he heard that voice—man, that voice was so unfair—and he cleared his throat. “No, your majesty.” He shrugged and chuckled softly for a moment. It was the most honest moment he’d had with the man and it was smack in the middle of the outpost’s commissary. “Force of habit.”

“Mm.” T’Challa nodded. “Try the irio. It’s not something I think you would get in America. You might enjoy it.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. I’ll do that. Any other suggestions?” He should have stopped there and he knew it but… damn it, there he went again. “Tuna? Catnip?”

“If you’re that interested, you should join me for dinner. Perhaps a cultural exchange is overdue.”

Sam blinked at the man for a second. No smirk, no twitch. “That… yeah. Okay. Dinner.” Did the king of Wakanda just ask him on a date? This day was getting weird. “My schedule’s wide open…”

“I know.” T’Challa reached past him and finally a smile passed over his face and Sam cursed his want for a reaction. That was just so damn unfair. “Tonight.”

Sam nodded, absently grabbing a fruit cup from the counter and moved toward a table as the king left. It took a few minutes to try to figure out what had just happened. He clued in again when Steve waved a hand in front of his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.” Sam shook his head. “Got a date tonight.”

“Really?”

Sam nodded, taking a bite of the recommended dish. “Yeah, I think this is going to work out pretty damn well.” As long as he could stop acting like a dumbass, he was sure he could pull this off. Well, not sure but he was reasonably okay with his chances.

~*~*~*~

It was like somebody at Disney actually did their research. He walked into the atrium and nearly tripped over his own feet. It looked magical. Beautiful plants that he couldn’t name but definitely appreciated lined the walls of the room that was built more like a greenhouse than anything else. The glass ceiling—he assumed it was glass anyway—gave a beautiful view of the night’s sky and a lingering hint of pink as the sun finished sinking into the jungle around them. If this was what T’Challa thought a cultural exchange looked like, Sam hated—or loved—to think what a real romantic evening would look like. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that he was an honest to god superhero and this… he could do this. He’d faced way worse than this. 

He still felt about as comfortable as he had asking Lona Washington to the prom though. He was sure he was going to get shot down if he showed his cards but it was too late to back out now. 

“So this is where you keep the fancy strings, right?”

He cursed himself softly. Great start, Wilson.

“No, the… fancy ones are in the National Treasury.” T’Challa stood, looking every bit the king he was. “I would offer you a tour but I would worry you’d try to line your nest with them.”

Oh. _Oh…_

He was giving back this time. That was new but at least Sam knew how to work with that. “Well, I’d ask first.”

“That is very considerate of you, Mr. Wilson.” T’Challa motioned toward the table laid out in the middle of the room. “Please.”

“Thanks. And thanks for the recommendation at lunch.” There was no need to be rude, after all. His mama raised him right anyway. Even if she never dreamed he’d be here. 

“You are welcome. Maybe one day you can repay the favor.” T’Challa sat down and Sam figured he’d better do the same. He knew he should have brushed up on etiquette with Wakandan royalty but this wasn’t in the handbook. “Some… home cooking, perhaps?”

“I don’t know if I can match this.” Sam waved a hand over the table. “But I could probably get something together, if you’re interested.” 

“I would be. As you can imagine, I don’t get that sort of thing often.” T’Challa chuckled. “Food seems the easiest way to learn about people.”

Sam thought on that for a moment before he nodded. “That’s true, come to think of it.” He glanced up as a woman came in and poured wine for them. He smiled at her and thanked her, again, unsure what the protocol was but he wasn’t going to just ignore her. “I didn’t know Wakanda had wineries.”

“We don’t. Not the right climate.” T’Challa took a sip. “But occasional import exceptions can be made.” He waved toward the food as he started to eat. “Don’t stand on ceremony, Mr. Wilson. I’m not going to expel you from here if you don’t bow properly.”

Sam nodded, watching for a moment before digging in. “In that case, it’s Sam. If we’re not doing the whole formal thing, just call me Sam.”

T’Challa nodded. “If I do this, will you make some of this… tuna for me?” 

The smirk sold it. The king was in on the joke and if Sam was right, he was flirting back. Sam chuckled. “Only if I get some of those nice strings to line my nest with.”

“That seems a fair trade. Though I may require more than just tuna for such a price.”

Sam took another bite of dinner and grinned. “Well, Your Majesty, let me tell you about my grandmother’s jambalaya.”


End file.
